Discovery
by Rubber Duck Commander
Summary: Draco finds something incriminating of Hermione's... AU to 6th book


_**Discovery**_

By Rubber Duck Commander

(A One Shot)

Draco Malfoy noticed the small scrap of paper littering the Head Boy and Girl's common room the first moment he walked in on that February day. He had emerged from Quidditch practice, his hair askew and his face slightly pink from the cold. Still, even though the first thing he desperately wanted was a hot shower to warm up, the piece of paper taunted him. _I'll see what it is afterwards_. With that he stormed up the steps to his dormitory.

When he returned about a half hour later, the parchment was still there, almost as if it were messing with him. The pale paper seemed to stand out starkly from the dark midnight blue carpeting, which made him wonder just _how_ someone could miss it – surely the house elves saw it. That and the Head Girl… surely _she_ was the one who dropped the paper. _Stupid little mud-_ He stopped the direction of his thoughts. He had sworn to himself not to use that word – not for _her_ sake, of course, but merely because he had to keep up the façade of looking like a top student for the school.

Walking over, he picked up the paper and unfolded it. Sure enough, in _her_ handwriting, was a poem. It wasn't a very good one, he noted, and a few lines had been scribbled out and rewritten. It didn't look like she tried hard on it. Hell, even her _handwriting_ wasn't up to par when writing it – little drops of ink were splattered all over the page! Seeing something written on the bottom of the page, Draco squinted. In someone else's handwriting, they had written:

"_Hermione_! _This is _very_ good_! _Is it about you-know-who… (Well, not _You-Know-Who_, but… well, you know who I'm talking about_!) _because you two have been… well, you are either fighting or ignoring each other… Anyway, you should really show some other people. You're really good at poems_! – _With love, Gin_."

Oh. The Weaselette had read this before him. _Of course, Granger is either with the Weaselette or with Potty and the Weasel_. If Ginny Weasley has already read this, he determined, then Potter and his friend read it already, too. Turning the parchment over, he looked to see anyone else's input. _None._

Looking around the common room – he didn't want her to _pop_ in out of nowhere and then have to hear from her for hours on end to not read anything that didn't belong to him – he sat down neatly on a chair nearest to the fireplace and began to read the poem. _It's a good thing Granger has half-decent handwriting_.

_I hate the way you talk to me,_

_And the way you cut your hair._

_I hate the way you fly your broom,_

_I hate it when you stare._

Wow, Malfoy thought. She must have been really incensed at someone to write _this._ He wondered vaguely who she wrote about. Apparently, she wrote about a Quidditch player, made evident from her words, 'fly your broom,' but… who stared at _her_? She wasn't the prettiest thing to look at.

_I hate your big, dumb bodyguards,_

_And the way you read my mind._

_I hate you so much it makes me sick –_

_It even makes me rhyme._

"Bodyguards?" _That_ line was confusing. So, she was referring to a Quidditch player, of whom she detested his hair and speech, and had bodyguards – who were, apparently, big and dumb – and was an Occlumens. Was she speaking of him? She _did_ hate him that much he was sure of. After all, he kept calling her all sorts of names about her filthy blood. Biting his lower lip, he continued to read.

_I hate the way you're always right,_

_I hate it when you lie._

_I hate it when you make me laugh –_

_Even worse when you make me cry._

Now this verse made him rethink his hypothesis. He had _never_ in all his years at Hogwarts, _ever _made Hermione Granger laugh. Chuckle once or twice, but _never_ laugh. And, if he ever made her cry before, he never saw it.

_I hate it when you're not around,_

_And the fact that you didn't call._

_But mostly I hate the way_

_I don't hate you –_

_Not even close, not even a little bit, not even at all._

The ending confused him – so, she hated someone so badly… and then realized she really didn't?

Argh. Brain cramp.

Suddenly, he heard the common room door open, revealing the author of the poem. The bushy haired eighteen-year-old girl was, as usual, carrying almost ten books, balancing them in one hand as she stormed through the common room, almost completely ignoring the silver haired Slytherin by the fireplace.

"Hullo," She said, muffled from the books she carried as she dumped them on the floor beside the common room table. She didn't look up to see him; she merely said the greeting. Opening one book, she pulled out a quill and parchment – he noticed it was the same color as the parchment he held – and began scribbling down facts.

"Nice poem you got here." He held up the parchment as she looked up slowly. Her face at once paled and then flushed. "Who's it about?" He noticed her face went to an even brighter red as she reached for it quickly. Pulling from her line of sight, he asked again, "Who is it about? You seem to hate someone very much." She looked away and pulled out her wand.

"_Accio parchment_," She murmured. Draco felt the paper slide through his fingertips as it flew back to its owner. "It's nothing – just a poem." She quickly stuffed it in her pocket and went back to her homework. "Ginny… gonna kill her…"

"Why?" Draco asked, truly curious. "True, I'd want the entire Weasley family dead, but what is _your_ particular reason for wanting the Weaselette gone?" Hermione sent him a cold glare as she looked back up at him. "You know, you'll never get your work done unless you just out and out _tell_ me what that poem was about."

"Someone," Hermione answered, "Who is a _jerk_ and can't leave other people's things alone." She picked up the book she had opened and her parchment and quill and stormed upstairs, ignoring the look of surprise written all over Draco Malfoy's face. _So… I _was_ right. She _did _write about me_!

A smirk lit his face as he rose. He raced to the base of the staircase and looked up at the bookworm-ish girl. Hermione glared back at him and was about to go upstairs when…

"So I'm right _all_ the time, huh?" Hermione flushed before turning and facing him, wand in hand. Draco paled a bit, trying to reach for _his_ wand before –

"_Petrificus Totalus_! _That_'ll teach you to not touch my stuff again!"

000

**Author's note:** Tee hee. Just a bit of silliness before my multi-chaptered Dramione gets posted. I didn't want a typical "Draco 3's Hermione" one-shot… and I had just watched "10 Things I Hate About You" for the millionth time.

**Disclaimer**: I don't own _Harry Potter_ or the poem that was included in this fic. The poem – minus the re-written lines – belongs to the writers of _Ten Things I Hate About You._


End file.
